


A Mutual Pursuit

by Maleficar



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23773687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maleficar/pseuds/Maleficar
Summary: He ached, he burned, he stood back in Nibelheim in the midst of a conflagration, but this time, his skin trapped the flames. In that moment, he knew without a doubt that he would let Sephiroth do whatever he wanted.Mild spoilers post final battle.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Comments: 15
Kudos: 177





	A Mutual Pursuit

“Let us defy destiny together.”

Sephiroth held out his hand.

Cloud stared at it. At him. Back at the hand.

Some strange, yawning hunger unfurled within him. Bizarre, nearly overwhelming need drove him to lift his hand toward Sephiroth’s. He—he didn’t want this. He didn’t want to help Sephiroth do anything, and yet—

Staticky, indistinct whispers fogged his brain. He could pick out fragments of sentences—

_—union with—_

_Join—_

_—me. Embrace—_

_—_ but could make out nothing intelligible.

Beneath the words scratching inside his skull, that need churned inside him. It threaded through him like a second skeleton, its desires subsuming his own. He stood on the mental precipice of his own destruction. The only thing standing between him and the utter loss of self was empty air.

Cloud shuddered.

He didn’t want to help Sephiroth, and yet he felt his arm move.

“No,” he snarled, clasping his hand against his arm. His feet slid apart, his body turning to the side to shelter the arm reaching for Sephiroth.

Gritting his teeth, he dug his fingers into his own wrist hard enough to bruise, hard enough that he felt bones grating together. His eyes snapped up, meeting Sephiroth’s steely gaze.

Steely, but not indifferent.

Something sinister and dark lurked behind the startling green of Sephiroth’s eyes. Something hungry, as hungry as the clawing need inside of Cloud.

“Don’t deny me,” Sephiroth said, taking a step toward him.

Cloud tried to move, but the gravity of a thousand suns held him in place. He strained against the hunger inside him, against the need to reach out for the monster taking yet another step toward him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he drew on every ounce of strength he possessed. He recalled the horrific flashes of Tifa’s anguish. He remembered Aerith’s words before they stepped into the final battle. Beneath it all, he felt his own residual terror and he used his fear to fill his bones with strength.

He let out a howl of fury and denial and pain. He tore himself away from destiny, wrenching his body backward.

And his hand settled in Sephiroth’s palm.

Cloud’s eyes flew wide open. He sucked in a sharp, horrified breath, and that breath exploded out of him with disbelief.

_No_.

With no air in his lungs, he couldn’t voice that horrified word.

Sephiroth’s head tipped ever so slightly to the side. “You are the last piece,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. The rough timbre of it stroked the raw, visceral hunger that chewed in Cloud’s gut, soothing the indiscernible source of it. “The last piece I need.” Sephiroth stepped closer, pulling on Cloud’s arm at the same time.

The inexorable strength in Sephiroth’s grip pulled Cloud off balance, and he stumbled forward.

Sephiroth caught him with his hand around Cloud’s throat.

Pleasure exploded beneath his skin. He ached, he burned, he stood back in Nibelheim in the midst of a conflagration, but this time, his skin trapped the flames. In that moment, he knew without a doubt that he would let Sephiroth do whatever he wanted. Shatter his trachea, smash his throat, crush the delicate bones of his neck.

And the ecstasy of his agony would be _exquisite._

“Embrace me,” Sephiroth commanded.

On some primal level, Cloud understood that Sephiroth didn’t want to be held. That demand was for so much more than Cloud’s arms around him. Though he knew holding the other man wasn’t enough, it was all he knew to do. He reached for Sephiroth with both arms now, sliding them beneath the heavy fall of the other man’s jacket.

Cloud’s hands pressed against the naked skin of Sephiroth’s back, and he discovered a new, profound loathing for the gloves that kept him from touching Sephiroth’s skin.

(No, no, that wasn’t right, he didn’t want to touch Sephiroth, he didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want any of this, he wanted to find his strength, he wanted—)

He wanted to curve his hands around Sephiroth’s shoulders, but Sephiroth’s pauldrons and the tight fit of his jacket through the chest prevented Cloud’s touch.

Sephiroth’s fingers tightened on Cloud’s throat. His eyes narrowed with thinly veiled disappointment, and Cloud’s heart skipped two beats in his chest.

“I—”

“You’re not ready,” Sephiroth said, squeezing harder. Disgust colored his tone, filled in the space between his words. “Not yet.”

No. _No_ , he was ready, he would give Sephiroth whatever he wanted, whatever needed.

(A distant part of him howled in outrage.)

“But we can make progress here.” The barest hint of a smile curled Sephiroth’s lips. “Together.”

Sweet joy coursed through Cloud. “Yes,” he breathed, his voice raspy and rough from the abuse of Sephiroth’s hand.

In a single, fluid motion, Sephiroth took Cloud to the ground. Cloud’s back hit the dirt, and he cried out more in surprise than pain, and then, as Sephiroth’s body settled against his and pinned his wrists by his shoulders, surprise evaporated, replaced by pleasure.

By horror. He was failing. Once again he was failing and once again someone else would need to save him because he was never enough on his own.

“Mmm, no, we can do better than this for you, Cloud.”

Cloud panted beneath Sephiroth, staring up at him with rapture in his gaze.

Sephiroth rolled off him, smoothly transferring Cloud’s wrists to one hand. He dragged Cloud’s smaller frame between his legs, laying Cloud’s back against his chest. Silvery hair billowed around them like contrails in the air, a thousand lines of bullets shimmering around Cloud’s face.

“ _Much_ better.”

Cloud fought the fall of his head, he really did. Against his will, it dropped backwards onto Sephiroth’s shoulder. This felt right (it felt _wrong_ ). This felt good (if felt _awful_ ). The closer he could be to Sephiroth, the less hunger he felt.

No, that wasn’t quite right. The yawning, endless hunger inside him grew increasingly satisfied, but the fiery desire simmering under his skin only burned with greater intensity. Every touch, every moment of contact, both soothed and inflamed, both eased and incited.

Caught in the spiraling dichotomy, Cloud felt small and lost. He was a mortal resting in the arms of an immortal god. Wasn’t this where he belonged? It felt right, so very right.

Sephiroth’s lips drew along Cloud’s temple, and he shuddered in his god’s embrace. Aching heat spread through him and pooled in his groin. Delicious need made his cock stir and harden, and he trembled.

“You’ve come so far for me already,” Sephiroth purred, and sweet relief washed through Cloud.

He’d been fighting against Sephiroth, raging against the creature he should worship above all others, and yet his actions merited praise. He hadn’t been making mistakes. He hadn’t ruined yet another attempt at becoming—something. Someone. At becoming _more_. 

Sephiroth’s hand smoothed down Cloud’s chest, and Cloud’s cock hardened so fast it hurt. Blood pounded in his veins, and he arched almost violently against Sephiroth’s touch. He twisted into the heat of Sephiroth’s hand, desperately aching for more touch, more sensation, more of his god’s caresses.

“Good, Cloud.”

Sephiroth’s praise filled him with delirious pleasure. He could weep from the rightness of it.

Long fingers curved around Cloud’s wrist, lifting his hands to curl them against his chest.

“Hmm? What’s this?” Sephiroth turned Cloud’s wrist in his hand, inspecting the bracer he wore, and Cloud shivered with anticipation and eagerness to know what Sephiroth saw that was so fascinating. “Elemental materia linked to ice—and to fire.” His dark chuckle shook Cloud like a storm. His cock throbbed, his hips rolling.

Booted feet swung over Cloud’s ankles, trapping him and denying him the range of motion he needed to rock his hips again. A weak sound caught in his throat.

“Clever.”

Sephiroth’s lips touched his ear, and Cloud gasped, feeling as though someone had cast thundaga on him.

“Do you know what this allows me to do to you, Cloud?”

He’d equipped his materia like this so that Sephiroth _couldn’t_ do things to him, he remembered that much. He remembered thumbing the elemental materia pieces before slipping them into his armor, equipping them with fire and ice because—because he remembered something else, an echo of before. The same memory as Tifa’s screams of anguish, the same memory as—

Cloud jerked violently in Sephiroth’s grasp, and this time it had nothing to do with Sephiroth’s agonizingly hot caresses.

He had to get away. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this.

“I won’t—”

“You will,” Sephiroth said matter of factly, yanking Cloud’s shirt from the thick expanse of his belt. He rucked it up, pushing it high on Cloud’s chest.

Warm leather dragged over Cloud’s skin, and he’d have to be a better man not to find that sensation arousing, especially when his cock was already hard and _very_ interested in every way that Sephiroth touched him.

“A demonstration.”

Cloud struggled against Sephiroth’s superior grip. The strength the other man wielded was impossible, even for a SOLDIER. But if SOLDIERs were gods among men, then Sephiroth was a god among SOLDIERs. No force of nature could free Cloud from his god’s grip.

“Let me go!” Cloud snarled, bucking wildly in Sephiroth’s grip. He went nowhere, of course.

A unique scent filled the air. Like mako, magic had a scent, and each spell smelled a particular way. The fire family smelled like embers and charcoal, like a hot and humid day. Lightning materia laced the air with crackling ozone before the magic formed.

Something sharp and cold filled Cloud’s nose. He smelled mountain winds and icy tundras. Frigid mornings had a distinct smell, filling the nose and biting at flesh.

Sephiroth cast blizzard against Cloud’s skin, dragging his thumb along Cloud’s nipple.

Sensation ricocheted down his spine. Fuck, Sephiroth cast _blizzard_ but it felt like _thunder_ , and Cloud gasped, arching into that touch.

A second later, he felt the sweet burn of fire. Sephiroth’s hand dragged across his chest, pulling flame over his skin. Cloud writhed beneath that touch, trapped by Sephiroth’s strength and forced to feel. It hurt, yes, but with his elemental materia absorbing the damage, it felt unspeakably good, too.

“Stop,” Cloud breathed, the protest faint. It rang hollow, even to him, because he didn’t want Sephiroth to stop. No, he wanted the lingering stroke of Sephiroth’s hand again. Wanted to feel ice against his skin in place of the heat.

“Mmm.” For a moment, Sephiroth sounded like he was actually considering Cloud’s request. “No.”

Shock rippled through him as Sephiroth unfastened his belt. He tossed the thick piece of leather aside, his fingers pulling at the fly of Cloud’s pants. “Progress,” he purred in Cloud’s ear, “is made step by slow, exquisite step. I will perfect you, Cloud.”

Cloud trembled as Sephiroth’s hand pushed beneath his pants. He sucked in a hard breath as Sephiroth’s palm ran over the length of his hand cock through his underwear. And he swore, his head falling back, when Sephiroth dragged blizzard-touched fingers over his skin.

Caught between Sephiroth’s chest and his hands, trapped by Sephiroth’s legs laying over his, Cloud could do nothing but feel. And the things he felt—

His head hit Sephiroth’s shoulder. Broken, aching moans spilled past his lips as Sephiroth’s hand closed around his cock. Body-warm leather slid over his skin, the texture a delicious counterpoint to the licks of ice.

One cold thumb dragged over the head of Cloud’s cock, smearing a drop of precum over his skin. Sephiroth’s warm palm dragged down his length, touch hard and firm and rough enough to pulled another moan from him.

And then Sephiroth’s hands weren’t cold, they were burning hot.

Cloud cried out, twisting in Sephiroth’s grasp. The sudden change shocked him, but it diminished none of the pleasure of Sephiroth’s touch. Instead, the heat made him burn more, made electric pleasure dance down his spine.

“Good,” Sephiroth purred, and though Cloud hated that praise, he ached for more of it. His cock twitched in Sephiroth’s hand, and the other man let out a low, dark chuckle against his ear that did as much to twist Cloud up inside as the hand on his length.

A squeeze beneath the head of his cock made stars explode across his vision. A rough stroke made him gasp and groan. A twist of Sephiroth’s wrist and a long drag up his length pulled a sound from Cloud that was almost embarrassing—but it made him feel like he was flying, or falling, or both, and the only Sephiroth’s embrace kept him stable.

“Imagine being this wrapped up in me all the time.” Sephiroth’s lips brushed against Cloud’s ear, and need twisted in Cloud’s gut. He panted, eyes staring into the distance without focus. “Imagine no barriers between us— _ever_.”

He shouldn’t want that. He knew he shouldn’t want that, but, fuck, he craved it. The very thought of it soothed the violent hunger in his gut at the same time it twisted passion’s knife deeper between his ribs.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

Sephiroth surged forward in a smooth roll. He pushed Cloud’s shoulders to the rocky ground, but Cloud found no complaint in the bite of stone against his cheek, his chest, his knees. The sharp pricks provided a decadent counterpoint to the rough stroke of Sephiroth’s hand on his cock, making the pleasure better. Harsher. Harder.

He groaned.

“Let go, Cloud,” Sephiroth purred, laying himself across Cloud’s back.

Silver moonlight spun into strands of hair billowed and fell about them in twisting coils. Each silky caress against his skin added another layer to the ecstasy Sephiroth painted against his skin.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Cloud rocked hard into Sephiroth’s fist.

Close now, so close. He moved with the other man, hating himself for his own weakness, but desperately needing the release Sephiroth could give him. He chased it with everything in him. The changes between fire and ice didn’t register, didn’t shock him; when Sephiroth switched between one spell and the other, all it did was add more to the sensation, building up until—

Sephiroth’s hand dragged rough down Cloud’s length and applied slow, steady pressure around the base of his cock.

A choking sob burst past his lips as Sephiroth’s rough grip forestalled orgasm but brought with it an utterly overwhelming wave of pleasure. For a moment, Cloud couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know where he was. Didn’t know who he was. Only Sephiroth’s hand on his cock defined him. Only the weight of him at Cloud’s back sketched in the lines of reality.

“Mutual pursuit of the same goal,” Sephiroth said, almost casually, as he released Cloud’s wrists, “is what brings us closer. When we want the same thing, _then_ you’ll be ready for the final reunion. Don’t you want that?”

Did he? Shit, he didn’t know. He didn’t think he should want that, but he didn’t not want it, either.

“Please,” he gasped, hating himself for the weakness. He didn’t really know if he was asking for more or for clarification, but he also didn’t care which it was. Anything Sephiroth gave him now would be better than nothing.

A hand wrapped in leather stroked down Cloud’s side. Sephiroth’s jacket hung around them both, shadowing their bodies and trapping their shared heat. Cloud trembled as Sephiroth’s hand smoothed over his hip, his thigh. He groaned as Sephiroth curved his palm over his ass.

“Pleading, Cloud?” Sephiroth rasped out a chuckle against his ear, dark like midnight and just as dangerous. “Give me more of your pleas.”

Sephiroth’s hand disappeared, and Cloud let out a bereft moan. He couldn’t understand how he’d displeased his god so much that he needed to be punished by the loss of touch.

But then Sephiroth’s hand returned, bare, with no leather glove between their skin.

Cloud shuddered.

Rough fingers ran along the curve of his ass, dipping inward to stroke along his thigh. At the same time, Sephiroth resumed lazily stroking Cloud’s cock, as if he had nothing better to do with his time.

Mutual pursuit of the same goal, Sephiroth had said.

Another shudder ran down his spine.

Sephiroth’s fingers slipped between Cloud’s cheeks in a single, long glide. The callused tips of his fingers ran like pulled silk over Cloud’s entrance, and he let out a shocked gasp, bucking hard into Sephiroth’s fist. The hard drag of leather along his cock was almost too much, and he jerked back to avoid too much of it, inadvertently pushing Sephiroth’s fingers against his entrance.

That stimulation horrified him. Aroused him. Pleasure sparked under his skin like fireworks, and Cloud whined, pressing his forehead against a particularly rough-edged stone. That, too, only magnified the storm of feeling tangling up his body.

He didn’t really know what he felt anymore, just that he wanted more of it.

“Good.” The wicked, crooning drawl of Sephiroth’s voice raked pleasure down Cloud’s spine. Sephiroth had never emoted much—except the rage, Cloud remember the rage, the fury, the hatred, the disdain—but now, he spoke with so much pleasure in his voice. So much anticipation.

One finger pressed harder, pushing into him.

Cloud stiffened and tried to scramble away.

Sephiroth’s fist closed hard around his cock, and the weight of him pinned Cloud in place, but, gods, the combination of pleasure and pain was delicious. Cloud let out a sobbing moan, thrusting hard into Sephiroth’s hand once more.

“That’s it,” Sephiroth murmured, and one finger pressed just barely into Cloud’s body.

The intrusion was foreign, frightening for the alien sensation, but beneath the strange pressure was a delicious feeling of anticipation that made Cloud vibrate. He panted, his hips working slowly into Sephiroth’s hand. The slow push-pull, each retreat pushing Sephiroth’s finger further into him, felt like a drug.

“More, Cloud?”

Cloud’s only answer to that was a strangled moan. He couldn’t manage more.

“We’ll do what we can do.” Sephiroth’s finger drew back as his teeth caught Cloud’s ear. He didn’t tug gently or playfully. But Sephiroth had neither been gentle nor playful. He was a vengeful god; he always had been. Cloud would never expect tenderness from this man, but that was fine. He didn’t want tenderness.

Sephiroth bit down, applying more and more pressure over time, until Cloud’s vision fogged over with speckles and his breath caught in his throat. Only two points of sensation mattered: the visceral ache of Sephiroth’s teeth in his ear and the wicked drag of leather against Cloud’s cock.

Abruptly, Sephiroth released his ear. Cloud groaned, shaking. He heard a quiet hum and then a wet pop. Immediately following that, Sephiroth’s finger, slick with spit, pressed against Cloud’s ass again.

One goal. The same goal.

At first, Cloud thought that shared goal was pleasure. As Sephiroth worked his finger into Cloud’s body, he realized the truth.

This wasn’t about pleasure.

This was about destruction. This was about _his_ destruction, and he didn’t care. Sephiroth wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t tender. He was systematic and brutal.

He worked his finger deeper, stroking, teasing, cajoling with relentless pleasure as he stroked Cloud off. When Cloud got too close to orgasm, Sephiroth’s fist closed hard around his length. The shock of pain knocked him back, but never far. Each time Sephiroth began playing ice and fire over him, he took Cloud one step closer to the edge of a devastating kind of bliss Cloud had started to crave.

Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Not the planet, not Tifa’s past anguish or Aerith’s present hopes. The future lost all its meaning, and the past meant something only because it had propelled him into this present.

Sephiroth destroyed him. That questing finger found something inside Cloud’s body that made him break.

He sobbed the next time Sephiroth denied him an orgasm. Tears burned in his eyes, as much for the same of wanting as wanting itself, and he twisted violently both into and away from Sephiroth’s every touch.

“Burn for me,” Sephiroth demanded, and Cloud did.

Sephiroth cast fire against his skin, and it lit him with blazing light. The materia on his bracer absorbed the damage but did nothing to prevent the flames. They scorched him, devoured him, and his materia prevented what should have been an inevitable demise.

When Sephiroth bit his neck hard enough to make him bleed, Cloud begged for more. When Sephiroth slipped a second finger into him and the stretch became a burning pain that should have been uncomfortable, Cloud pleaded for release.

Words ceased to have meaning. His existence started and stopped with Sephiroth’s hands on his body.

Devastating pleasure crested inside him, bubbled up, spilled over. He came so hard it hurt, too. Everything hurt, but the hurt was so good, so sweet. It swept through him like a tidal wave across the whole of the planet, swamping him, overwhelming him. And then flame followed wave, and what remained of his battered self burned away. He was nothing in the face of Sephiroth’s fire, consumed by it.

In the ashes of ecstasy, he trembled against rocky ground. His cock throbbed with spent pleasure. His body shook. He felt cold and hot and then cold again, barely able to breathe.

“Seven seconds till the end.” Sephiroth murmured the words against Cloud’s ear, and all that pleasure evaporated like so much fog on a cloudless day. “Time enough for you. Perhaps.” He spoke with a wandering tone, a thoughtful tone. “But what will you do with it?” Another dark chuckle. “Let’s see.”

And then Sephiroth was gone, Cloud was alone.

Alone in skin that didn’t fit quite right, with a mind that didn’t feel quite right, wearing clothes that didn’t match him and standing beside friends who no longer occupied quite the same place in his life. He swallowed hard.

Mocking laughter echoed in his head.

**Author's Note:**

> Think of me like a kink meme dumpster. Leave a comment telling me what you liked about this fic along with a prompt, and I'll add your prompt to my list.


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